


Cracked Product

by SunnyDonna



Category: DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Child Neglect, Dark, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Teen Angst, Underage Sex, mild prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyDonna/pseuds/SunnyDonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For an LJ prompt: </p><p>Wally starts to sell himself. </p><p>Summary: </p><p>Wally West is horrified when he realizes his parents have no money to their name, and a stack of debts. His dad's never home, he's always working. Wally starts to work to make ends meet, trying and failing to do the right thing. Which leads to a lot of mistakes, a lot of angst and Wally starting to crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Debts and Dramatics

Wally was thirteen when his life began to change. It all started with an assignment for school. Calculate your family's monthly expenses. Wally never really took his geography class seriously, because really, who cared about rain and stuff. But this new human geography unit was different. So far, they'd had to study calculate their eco-footprints, they'd had to determine the city's energy output, and GDP. So he was surprised when this assignment came up. It was all in an attempt to learn how much money the average family in Central City contributes to taxes and how much money they save.

So Wally had tackled the assignment with ease. He'd asked his mother for some of the bills, asked her about the savings, and then called Robin and asked him to hack his parents tax accounts and send him the details. What returned made Wally's eyes pop out of his head.

His parents had no savings. His father, as a mechanic, contributed a paltry monthly wage of approximately three thousand dollars to the household. Their annual income was thirty six thousand dollars. His mother didn't have a job, and she blew almost four hundred dollars on personal expenses. His father used almost six hundred dollars to commute with his job. He had to travel quite a bit, though Wally wasn't sure why. The remaining two thousand dollars was split between grocery bills and the house mortgage. His family was living pay-check to pay-check.

Worse still, the had a credit card bill that they never paid off. With the calculations Wally made, his parents had a seven thousand dollar debt on their head, and no way to pay it off. Wally suddenly understood why his father was so disappointed in Wally's ambitions to be a superhero. Superheros did their work voluntarily. They didn't pay bills.

Robin, being the good friend he was, never asked Wally about the bank statements. He never even looked at them, so Wally was able to shrug the entire thing off when Robin asked about it. For his assignment, Wally fudged the numbers to look like his desk-mate, Sally Johnson's.

But after that class, the sick feeling in Wally's stomach never went away. He started to wonder how his parents afforded things. He felt guilty each time he saw his mother restock the fridge, and knew thanks to Wally, they were spending five hundred dollars more on the grocery bill then necessary. If they could somehow save that money, maybe his dad wouldn't have to work as much. Maybe he'd be home more often. Maybe, just maybe.

* * *

 

So, Wally now knows he needs to make more money. Unfortunately, for a thirteen year old kid, there aren't many options to make money. He's considered getting a job, but that would interfere with the hours he spends as a hero. Finally, he comes up with an acceptable solution.

“I'm selling my notes for twenty dollars per subject,” said Wally to the assembled crowd of students, “Anyone interested?”

By the end of the day, he's got six prospective buyers for his science notes. It's not enough money. He'd thought everyone in the class would want his science notes. But out of thirty kids, he barely scraped six. Scowling, Wally began walking home in a sullen silence. This wasn't fair. Why did other people have to be good note-takers and share with their friends.

“Hey! West!' called out a voice.

Wally turned to see Billy Johnson, his desk-mate, walking up to him. Billy was a head taller than Wally, with dark brown hair and a pimply face. Puberty was not kind to him. The larger, bulkier boy glanced over at Wally, and then looked around the street.

“Are you really in need of money?” asked Billy, looking- well, scheming.

“Yeah, I want some cash, why?” said Wally, curious.

“Well, if you do my science homework, I'll pay you ten bucks. And the assignment Ms. Goldeen has coming up, I'll give you fifteen for that,” said Billy.

“You have that much money? It's an up-front kind of deal,” said Wally, unimpressed. What thirteen year old carries around that kind of cash?

“I get a twenty dollar allowance weekly,” said Billy with a scoff, “I can pay.”

“Deal,” said Wally with a shrug, “Pay me the cash tomorrow by the old oak tree, and I'll have your stuff done.”

“By tomorrow?” asked Billy, surprised.

“Yep,” said Wally firmly.

And like that, Wally goes home grinning. He's in business now.

* * *

 

It's been a full week since he sold copies of his notes- that he had to hand write!- and made the deal with Billy. Word has gotten out, and everyone knows Wally's the resident science nerd. He's made three hundred dollars.

Unfortunately, that tattle-tale Linda Park went and told Mr. Davis, the school principle, on the grounds of being an investigative reporter. Wally was furious with her. His mother, Mary, was furious with him. The two of them were walking out of the principle's office, his arm being pulled by the older woman.

“Suspended! For a week! You could have been expelled! What were you thinking?!” she yelled, “That was the most humiliating hour of my life! Where the hell is the money you've been taking?”

“I'll give it to you when we get home,” said Wally with a groan, his arm hurting but not really because hyper-accelerated healing had it's advantages that way.

“You're grounded, you hear me young man! And I'm keeping that money! You aren't going to spend a dollar of it on candy or video games!” Mary said, as the two get into the car. “And I'm going to tell Uncle Barry to ground Kid Flash for the week you're suspended! Just wait until your father hears about this!”

“Dad's home?” asked Wally, surprised and delighted.

“Yes he is,” said Mary, her lips pursing, “And he's going to be absolutely furious.

* * *

 

She was right, of course. Wally was sent straight to his room when they got back. His mother and father were speaking too quietly in the kitchen to hear anything. After a few minutes, his father's booming voice called out, “Wallace Rudolph West, get your butt down here right now!”

And despite the fact that Wally's flinching, and the fact that he's totally terrified, he's grinning like an idiot. Because his dad is home after a two week long business trip! Then he frowns. He has no idea how long dad will be back this time, and because of this stupid thing with the principle, he's not going to get to spend some time with his dad until he goes off again.

“What do you have to say for yourself Wallace?” asks his dad, sitting at the dining table with a frown on his face.

Wally looks nothing like his father. He's a tall man, with dark brown hair, heavy-set brown eyes, and a full brown beard. His father had wrinkles around his eyes, and in his forehead. He's tall too, and built like a bull. Wally used to want to be that big when he grew up. Now he knows it's a pipe dream. He's too small and thin and runner-like to ever be that muscular.

“I'm sorry,” said Wally, and he's sincere about it. He's sorry he got caught.

“No son of mine would be caught helping others cheat,” said Rudolph angrily, “That's a crook's way of thinking. Are you a crook?”

“No sir,” said Wally, trying to keep his voice even. His dad hates tears.

“Well then why are you acting like a god damn crook?! I work hard to put food on your plate- or in your case, plates! Why the hell are you shaming me like this?! First you went and blew yourself up like a moron, and now this! What were you thinking Wallace?” asks Rudolph, and Wally bit his lower lip.

“Stop that,” chides Mary, swatting his cheek lightly so he lets go of his lip.

“I wasn't sir,” replies Wally, trying to stay steady, “It won't happen again dad, I promise.”

“This is why I don't come home as often Mary,” said Rudolph, now ignoring him, “Because shit like this always happens when I get back. Go to your room Wallace, and stay there.”

Wally is trembling now, his fists shaking and his eyes are stinging. He turns, and his mother ignores him as she pours herself a glass of wine. Wally's moving so fast, that by the time he gets to his room, his tears are hot down his face, and he's almost burnt the wood below him. But now, in the safety of his room, he blots his eyes, and contemplates getting a paper route instead.


	2. Money Money Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally faces more monetary issues. It starts to rule his life.

It's been two months since the _incident_. His Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris were also disappointed in him. His Uncle Barry asked why he did it, and Wally lied. He  _lied_  to his Uncle Barry. He knew his parents didn't want him to know about their finances. He instinctively knew that they didn't want anyone else to know. Wests were proud, after all. And he also knew that Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris had just bought a new house.

Wally didn't go to Robin this time to calculate their earnings. He was able to find an approximate salary and figure out their mortgage and debts from peeking at the bills that Aunt Iris spread haphazardly on the kitchen table one night. He knew that Uncle Barry still had his student loans to pay. Being orphaned and getting a forensic scientist degree wasn't cheap. His Aunt Iris is better off, her loans all paid off thanks to Grandpa Ira and the money he left her when he passed away.

Their mortgage, however, was costly. They weren't able to get a good deal, mostly because neither had enough time to look in other banks for a better interest rate. He also knew that Uncle Barry's grocery bill was higher then his own because Barry was a full-time speedster. So he knew that neither Uncle Barry nor Aunt Iris can be asked for money. They had their own loans to pay off, and had just barely started saving for their futures.

So Wally reassured them that it was nothing, just a mere whim to sell his notes, and began contemplating his job opportunities. Somewhere in all this worrying, he turned thirteen. Eventually, Wally settled on getting a paper route. It was tedious, and dull, and he couldn't use his super-speed because the neighbors would notice something was up. Plus, he sucked at throwing projectiles and controlling his speed, so one of the papers ended up burning up the one time he tried.

Wally served about fifty houses with his new job, and made about seventy dollars a month. And it was still no where near enough. His dad was still going off on his business trips, putting in extra hours, and he was sure things weren't fixed. Even his minor calculations and best-case scenario situations proved things weren't well.

Not yet.

Slowly, Wally found that he had become  _obsessed_  about money. He had calculated the cheapest way to buy his lunch at the school cafeteria, and maintain the nutrients he needed as a speedster. Wally had also begun to accompany his mother grocery shopping, and switched the expensive fruits, wines and breads his mother picked up to cheaper wines, fruits and breads when she wasn't looking. She didn't even notice. He picked up things on sale in bulk, so that his parents could start to save. So that his dad wouldn't have to work as much.

But it wasn't working.

He had only managed to economize and save two hundred dollars per month, and his paper route salary was just enough to cover his own expenses. Whatever he could save from that, he used to replenish things around the house sometimes, pay for his school lunches, buy an extra set of pencils. The saved money that didn't go to  _his_  needs helped in paying off some of their loans, Wally assumed, but the optimal solution would be if his mother were to get a job.

So he set about to fix that.

"Hey mom. How come you never went back to work after I was born?" Wally asked, approaching the topic lightly at the dinner table.

His mother put down the glass of wine she was sipping from, and raised an eyebrow in surprise. A frown graced her features, and she asked, "Why are you asking?"

"Well, Amanda Kipper's mom and dad both work," began Wally calmly, referring to their next door neighbor, "So it just struck me that you don't. Don't you get bored at home all day?"

"I'm not Mrs. Kipper," said Mary with a frown, "And I do work at home. Someone has to do the laundry and the dishes. Did Amanda's mother say something to you about me not working?!"

"No! Not at all! It's just, a lot of women work nowadays," continued Wally, hoping his mother got it.

"Are you ashamed because I don't work?" asked Mary, looking angry.

"Of course not!" said Wally, horrified, "Just- There are a lot of job opportunities out there mom. You could start a business from home, or get an online job or even work part-time-

"What has gotten into you Wally?" asked his mother, miffed, "Your father is doing just fine making money for us, and I won't have you questioning him in our house! Is this why you helped those kids cheat a few weeks ago? Because you want more money in the house?! Just because we can't get you the nicest toys, and because you have to wait a week for Christmas doesn't mean that you have the right to tell me to get a job!"

"I didn't mean it like that mom!" said Wally, eyes wide.

"And besides, we're making ends meet just fine even with your condition," continued his mother, taking a large gulp of her wine, "Go to your room Wally until you learn some respect! I will _not_  have that kind of behavior in my house!"

And Wally ran up the stairs, his hand shaking. Down at the dinner table, Mary West sighed, and poured herself another cup.

* * *

"You told Mary to get a job, kiddo?" asked his Aunt Iris, looking amused as she took a seat on the couch beside Wally. He shifted and laid his head in her lap, looking every bit the put out thirteen year old kid that had gotten yelled out just a few days before Christmas.

"I didn't mean anything by it!" said Wally immediately, "I didn't mean to get her so mad!"

"Is that why she wanted you staying over here this weekend?" asked Barry in surprise, as he popped in a movie.

Wally was spending the weekend with his Uncle and Aunt. His mother had been angry at him ever since the comment about her getting a job. Wally had apologized every time he saw her, trying to get her to calm down, but nevertheless, she'd told him that she needed some space and sent him off to his aunt and uncle's place for the weekend.

It didn't _hurt._

"I know you didn't," said Iris sweetly, as she ran her hand through his hair, "I've told her to get a job numerous times, but she's never budged. She always said Rudy can handle the expenses. That the money's his responsibility."

Barry and Iris exchanged a look, one that Wally couldn't quite make out as his aunt's hand ran through his hair, soft and soothing. He saw his Uncle Barry get that uncomfortable look on his face, that sort of resembled a man looking as though he was about to jump off a ledge, as he looked over at Wally.

"Wally," he said, rubbing the back of his neck like he usually did when nervous, "Did- I mean- Are your parents, well, having trouble? Financially?"

Wally's heart nearly dropped out of his chest. He sat up far too quickly and stared at his Uncle Barry with a slack jaw. He didn't know how to respond to that, and his Aunt Iris took his hand and squeezed it, shaking him out of his reverie.

"We're only asking because you seemed a little off Wally," said his Aunt kindly. "I asked your mother, but Mary said that everything was fine."

"Yeah- No- I mean- We're not having  _any_  problems!" squeaked Wally immediately, following his mother's lead. "It's just-

His mind began racing through several options and scenarios, and after ten subjective minutes of thinking, or about a minute of real time thinking, enough to warrant a sheepish pause rather than nervous panic, "I really want this laptop for Christmas, and I know my parents won't be able to afford it."

"So you wanted your mother to get a job?" asked Barry, sounding a little surprised, "Is that why you took the paper route?"

"Yeah," said Wally automatically, "But paper routes suck. I'm barely making enough money to cover the cost of my _snacks_!"

Which wasn't necessarily true. It covered lunch, for the most part. Extra milk when combined with coupons. Course, he had to give up the jello and stick to the more vegetarian options, but that was okay. He always liked carrots more than bacon anyways.

"Oh sweetie," said Iris, smiling at his pathetic little pout, "Which one do you want?"

"The one Rob has," said Wally automatically, "It's really great for making simulations and it's super fast. I even asked Dick if he'd stolen Barry's notes and blew up his laptop to get it that fast."

The two adults chuckled at the joke, and Wally felt relief pour through his muscles, loosening them. He had thrown them off his trail, and they weren't going to investigate the matter anymore. He felt a bit ashamed that he came off as the bratty teenager, but he didn't want to piss off his mom further. And he really didn't want his Aunt and Uncle to try and cover his family's debts. Especially not when he was a  _huge_  cause of those debts.

"If that's the case then just save your money up and we'll cover what's remaining, okay?" offered Aunt Iris, and Wally felt himself getting sick at the idea. That was not part of the plan!"

"Sweet Aunt I!" said Wally, wrapping her in a hug so that he could hide his frown. This was  _not_  part of the plan.

* * *

Christmas rolled around, and Wally, to his disappointment, got the laptop. His Aunt and Uncle had split the cost with the Garricks and his parents. Wally had no idea how much the laptop cost, and he wished he could be pissed off with Dick for even having such an expensive laptop, but the kid was the son of a billionaire.

It wasn't his fault Wally was an expensive child.

Wally, still, with immense guilt, had been semi-thrilled to have it. Dick had uploaded his own Christmas present onto it, and he could now Skype his best friend without Batman having a conniption about security matters. But Wally had never been so disappointed when opening his presents at Christmas then he had at that one.


	3. Desperation and Drowning

The paper route carried on until July. Wally learned Speedy's secret identity somewhere in that time, and had been both thrilled and disappointed to have another billionaire's son for a best friend. The only other sidekick, Aqualad, turned out to be from a pretty standard Atlantean family. Except apparently Aquaman covered most of Aqualad's expenditures as either a sidekick or student. He was the King's sidekick after all.

And that was totally not fair in any way because his uncle was a blue-collar man who had to work for a living. Wally's Aunt was a reporter, and while she was doing well at GBS, she wasn't by any means making enough money to pay off his teenage superhero debts. The issue of money was now racing through his mind on a daily basis.

"Hey Uncle Barry," he asked casually over dinner one night at his Uncle's house, "How do we afford the hero and partner gig? I mean, Roy and Dick and Kaldur have money pouring out of their ears, and we're- ordinary."

His Uncle Barry looked up in surprise, and then laughed. Aunt Iris raised an eyebrow, and casually asked, "What's the sudden curiosity?"

Wally waved his arms dramatically and with his usual flair for drama said, "Hello! Two of my best friends are billionaire kids and the third works for a King! It's pretty easy to tell how they get around all this stuff."

"Well, most of them have to pay for the cost of their weapons and stuff," said Barry lightly, "Whereas we don't have to do that. All we pay for is the food. Before the Justice League started up, it just meant solving more cold cases and putting in a few extra night shifts. Central started a donation box, but well, the Rogues made it a point to rob that bank, or the center, or whatever every time it got started. It got to the point where I just asked them to keep the money to themselves because it was just creating more work for me. But after the League began, the United Nations began offering the League heroes small stipends to make ends meet. Technically we get a small wage, it's made up of donations and things like that, and it's a lot more secure than the Central attempts. Costumes and the Hall of Justice and all that stuff is covered by those donations and stipends. The rest, well, Bruce and Ollie have been footing the bill for years to the more private stuff."

"So, you're getting paid?" asked Wally, a bit confused. If Uncle B was getting paid, shouldn't he have a salary too? Or was that only for League members? If so, when did he get to join the League?

"Not in the way you're thinking," said Barry quickly, "All medical care for you and I, the zeta-tubes all over Central, your goggles, all of that comes from the League's coffers. Our costumes, the League covers. And that's the rule for all the sidekicks as well."

"And Bruce and Ollie can afford all that?!" asked Wally, amazed by the sheer amount of money the two had.

"They aren't billionaires if they couldn't," joked Barry, "But most of it they do cover. Arthur covers any of the bills the two have trouble picking up, as well as supplying money to cover any costs that would look suspicious in their tax funds, and Diana chips in too."

"Wonder Woman's rich?" asked Wally, his mind blown apart by all these facts.

"Not like that, kiddo," said Barry gently, "But she is a princess."

"I never realized how complicated the League's financial system was," said Iris, as she sat down beside her boys, "How did you afford all this stuff before the League?"

"Bank loans, whatever donations I could scrap from the Central donation box or whatever kind people would thrust at me when I passed," said Barry with a shrug, "And lots of cold cases. That's why so many people end up joining partnerships, to help cut costs."

 _Except I don't contribute anything to our partnership,_ thought Wally miserably, as he glanced over at his Uncle Barry, who was still talking to his audience.

"And that's why heroes are really desperate to enter the Justice League," said Barry, "Because being a part of the League means that it's easier to pay off your debts and live a relatively easy civilian life. But it's also why the League is selective on who we take in, because it's a lot of money to spend on someone, and the bills go up dramatically with just one person. We try and hire after Doomsday plots both because it's the perfect time to get some more hands on deck, and also because it's when people are most generous to donate money to the League and the UN is willing to increase the money they spend on the Justice League Charter."

"Makes sense," said Iris with a gleam in her eye, "And I'm never allowed to write about it, am I?"

"Absolutely not," said Barry with a grin, "But at least you know when to start writing a report about new heroes joining."

* * *

After the informative dinner with his Uncle Barry, Wally found himself thinking about finances. Not really a new thought, but one that had taken on a much darker message. But for the first time, he was thinking of money in relationship to his future.

He didn't have any support financially. His parents were just barely covering themselves. One day, if he wanted to, he'd go to university. But at this rate, he could barely afford community college. He knew the stories of how his Uncle B got through university. He'd worked a paper route since he was ten, saved up money with various part time jobs. And he still had loans to pay off. Wally had none of that. What were his loans going to look like? Would anyone even give him a loan?

He didn't have the same time his Uncle B had as a kid. He couldn't get a job with fixed hours. His Uncle Barry might need him to fight Captain Cold or Heatwave. There could be a fire. People could be in danger.

Why did this have to be so hard?

* * *

It was an early September night, and Wally had just finished patrol with his Uncle Barry before returning home. It was only around eleven o'clock at night by the time patrol wrapped up, when his mother sent him a text asking if he could grab some milk. Wally was used to his mother sending texts late at night that he thought nothing of it. He shrugged and decided to grab it from the nearest convenience store, before running home in his civvies.

As he changed into his civvies, he realized his alley-way wasn't as empty as he thought. A man, skinny and gaunt with a scruffy beard and reeking of alcohol was propositioning a tiny woman. The woman had short brown hair, and looked more boyish then female, but her subtle curves suggested she was a woman.

Until she spoke.

"Look old man," said the very masculine voice, "I ain't interested in playing baby boy."

"I'll pay you eighty dollars," said the man with a whine, "C'mon."

"Hundred twenty and I'm in," said the man.

"I only got eighty bucks," said the drunk, and the man sighed.

"No deal then," said the woman-man, man-woman. Person.

"Well- Fuck you bitch!" said the man, before grumbling and stomping away.

Wally had watched the exchange with wide eyes. Eighty dollars was more then he made in one month! This man was willing to blow it for a night with a baby boy. Wally had no idea what exactly that entailed beyond a little acting, but suddenly, he felt curious. He forgot to take his goggles and gloves off before he went after the man.

"Hey," said Wally, calling out to the man.

"Whaddya want kid?" asked the man, sounding irritated.

"That offer- eighty bucks, does it- what do you want for it?" asked Wally, hesitant at first.

The man stared at Wally for a minute, and Wally felt self-conscious and turned pink. The man looked him over, up and down, and then went silent. Wally wondered if he was making the wrong decision.

"You do roleplay?" asked the man, sounding very serious. At least he wasn't laughing.

"Sure," said Wally hesitantly, when his eyes widened.

Oh.

Fuck.

He was being- _propositioned_.

For sex.

 _Sex_.

Shit.

Now, Central was no means like Gotham, but it did have it's own seedy underbelly of crime. Prostitution and drugs were actually pretty common crimes in Central. Central had the third highest prostitution rate after Gotham and Star City. Central and Metropolis were where most of the kids from the Midwest ran off to, and the ones that didn't make it often turned to drugs or prostitution. It was just, as Kid Flash, most of his work extended to stopping robberies and rescuing citizens. He hardly ever encountered crimes of this nature. Uncle Barry had never let him near it. 

He should probably run. But the man started to talk, and Wally was still processing the idea of being propositioned for illegal, underage sex.

"Shit kid," said the man, "You look like a freaky virgin with those goggles and shit. That your gig?"

"Er- kind of," replied Wally, feeling uneasy. Maybe he should back off. But eighty bucks in one night... For  _sex_. He should really _really_  walk away.

"Whatever, I'm in," said the man, "What can eighty bucks get me?"

Wally paused. It didn't  _have_  to be sex? Could he get away with kissing? He'd kissed that girl Tina before. It wasn't too bad. 

He really hadn't thought this through.

Still contemplating what to reply, he didn't realize the man in front of him was getting agitated. When he took too long to respond, the man sighed and said, "Fine. Just do the roleplay and a handjob- or that a bit too much for you kid? Shit, this is why I stay away from the freaks."

"I can- I can do that," said Wally, swallowing as he followed the man to the back of the alley. Hand-job. That was like masturbation, wasn't it? He'd done that to himself before. It wouldn't be weird.

Walk away!

Eighty dollars.

Walk away right now.

He _needed_  to contribute.

They were behind the dumpster and Wally paused, still panicking. There was no backing out once he took the money. He should go. He should stay. This was so  _so_  wrong. He suddenly felt really cheap. This was- Was it worth it?

No.

"Are you gonna start kid or are you chickening out?" asked the man with a scoff.

"No- I'm- yeah," said Wally, taking a deep breath, getting ready to work out a way to get out of this dangerous- very dangerous- very wrong- situation.

After a few sped up subjective minutes of thinking and plotting various scenarios on how to walk away without getting into a fight, the man forward and placed his hand on Wally's waist, and Wally's thoughts broke. Shit, they were starting. Not now- he wasn't- at least give him a minute to get ready!

"Hey- hang on!" said Wally, nervously.

The drunk man growled, and said, "I didn't pay for no back-talk, baby. Get with the fucking mood."

"I-

Wally was cut off by his body being pushed back into the wall beside the dumpster. It was hard and cold on his back, slightly moist too. But it was better than in front of him.

For a thin man, he was fucking heavy! The goggles were tugged off and dropped to the damp, dirty ground. The smell of garbage, rotting food and alcohol slipped into his mind. He felt a bit exposed as the man moved forward, and tipped his head back. The man, whose name Wally just realized he didn't even know, ran his hand through Wally's hair, before using it to tilt Wally's head back and press his lips to Wally's. Wally's eyes widened as the taste of alcohol overpowered in his mouth. The man's teeth sloppily tugged at Wally's lower lip, and a startled cry was produced from the boy.

They were starting now!?

He wiggled a bit, trying to figure out what the hell was happening as the man tugged at his hips, pulling them forward and creating friction.

"Are you goin' to start or what?" growled the man, grinding his own larger hips into Wally, who nervously almost vibrated in response.

He got a groan and a satisfied gasp from the drunk from the involuntary friction. 

Now, after getting his new WayneTech laptop, fit with Bat-level security, Wally had been taken the opportunity to look at porn, both out of curiosity, and because he was fourteen and that sort of stuff was talked about in high school and he didn't want to be completely ignorant. He wasn't a complete novice. He'd stumbled upon kinky stuff like that. But never between two guys. Just a girl being playing the role of 'baby-girl' to an older man. Taking what he remembered from that, he struggled to put it together.

What was he doing?

He had to -

"Oh that's good. Sweet little boy, you're such a good boy," groaned the man into his ear, and Wally stopped for a second, shocked before gasping out, "Wha- I'm- I'm a good boy?"

It sounded so real, so sweet. So caring. Nobody but Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris thought he was a good kid. He could barely make enough to support his mom and himself. The man hummed in agreement, and Wally felt a knee going between his legs, and he gasped again as it rubbed in places Wally didn't want rubbed.

This was getting weird fast.

He should go.

Like now.

"You've been such a good boy for your daddy, just let daddy take care of you, okay?" asked the man gently, running a hand on Wally's thigh.

That sounded so sweet, caring. Wally whimpered involuntarily, and then his mouth was filled with a tongue and he forgot what he was thinking because there was a  _tongue_  in his mouth. He groaned around it, and found himself drawing a blank. The kissing wasn't pleasant per say, but it wasn't highly uncomfortable either.

"Get your hand in daddy's pants and show him how much you love him, baby," said the man, and Wally froze nervously as the sound of a zipper broke the night silence.

The glove was stripped from his hand, and then the hand was dragged and wrapped around the base of the stranger's  _penis_. What was he doing? How the fuck did he end up here? There was no escaping this now.

Wally shuddered as he began to slowly tug on the thing in his hand, letting his mind go blank. Just get out of this without making things worse. Just be a _good_  boy. It felt strange and hot in his hand. It wasn't that thick, but it was long. Wally found it getting sticky as he rubbed along it, his thumb running over the head and feeling the soft skin there. It was larger then his own cock, and there was a roughness to it that he hadn't expected. He took a deep breath and mimicked the things he liked to do, slowly and steadily as he worked up the courage and let his mind go blank, trying to forget about . The man gave a groan, and muttered, "Good boy, such a good boy."

"Really? I'm- I'm a good boy- Daddy?" asked Wally, the thought breaking into his mind. For a second, he almost thought it was his father. Then he remembered where he was, and what he was doing, and he shuddered again.

The man was surprisingly gentle as he kissed Wally again this time, and despite the taste of alcohol on his breath, and the fact that Wally's hand was gently tugging on the other man's cock, Wally felt a thrill go through him. A sick thrill. He kissed the man back, the loneliness and ineptness feeling less- intense. He felt the man's hips suddenly thrust into his hand, and Wally broke the kiss, his eyes wide with horror as he stared at the sticky, smelly white fluid coating his fingers.

"You're such a good boy baby, Daddy's favorite little boy," said the man, dragging his wallet out and cheekily tucking the money into his back pocket.

Within the next five minutes, Wally was shaking and on his knees in an alleyway, a hand smelling bitter and still splotched with white, and seventy dollars in his back pocket.


	4. Concealer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes the right concealer to hide that ugly bruise.

When Wally got home that night, he took a long, relaxing shower. Complete with scalding hot water that felt like sharp knives prickling into his skin and left him pinker than raw meat. 

Cliche. Overdone. The most textbook response that ever existed. 

But it helped. When his skin was rubbed pink and raw and he could no longer feel or smell that man anywhere on him, he relaxed, for a moment. He still couldn't look at the money though. His thighs had started to bleed in the shower from where he'd scrubbed himself, trying to rid himself of the feeling of another man's leg grinding there. His own fear had saved him the disgrace of popping a boner. He doubted he'd ever be able to pop one again. At least the sheets wouldn't need to be washed as often. Water bill would be cut down.

The ironic humor was not appreciated. But it helped. 

Wally stared in the mirror for a long time after his shower, trying to make sense of what he had just done, who he was, and what this meant for him. He could  _never_  tell anyone what had happened. _Never._  

He was a superhero. Kid Flash. His uncle was a cop for crying out loud. His parents, his aunt and uncle, his teachers, they had all lectured him about stranger danger and all that. He worked in the industry. He had _known_  better. 

That meant he had to hide the evidence. Get rid of all the truth about what had happened so nobody would ever know. He grabbed his jeans and shirt, staring at them for a long time. Eventually, he stuffed them into a plastic bag, and threw it under his bed. He couldn't throw them out just yet, it was too soon. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure he could leave his bedroom right now. And it was sort of funny, because after all, who said monsters didn't exist under the bed? With that morbid thought in his mind, he went to deal with the next big issue.

The money.

He forced himself to tuck it into a clear, white envelope, and then keep it separate from the paper route money. He still had no idea what he was going to do with it. At the time, he'd probably had a million things he thought of. Groceries. Mom's wine. Dad's finances.

Now he just didn't want to look at it. Ever.

The money smelled of the alleyway, damp with trash, with the faint lingering scent of alcohol that was nothing like the sweet wine and perfume his mother smelled like, but rather, a musky, dangerous scent of vodka, sharp and bitter to the nose. He shivered at the thought.

He couldn't believe what he'd agreed to tonight. What he had done for money. Had he lost his mind? How could he  _do_  that?! His glove, bright yellow in colour, was untainted and sat mockingly beside the money on his desk.

He was Kid fucking Flash.

He had sold himself for a quick buck.

_“That your gig kid?”_

_“Yeah.”_

He'd been so fucking stupid!

In a fit of rage, he threw the glove into the trash. He was still shaking. He was supposed to be a hero. He wasn't supposed to get into those kind of situations! He was supposed to be rescuing vict-

No.

He was not a victim.

He had made his choices.

He was not a victim.

With that reassuring thought in mind, he fell into a fitful sleep. The dreams didn't go away.

* * *

“You lost your goggles and gloves?” asked Uncle Barry in surprise.

He'd called Wally in school today to ask if he wanted to go for a run after class. Normally, Wally would have jumped on the opportunity, but there was one minor problem.

“How did you lose both?” asked Aunt Iris, equally surprised.

Wally shifted uncomfortably in front of the both of them. He'd headed over to their place to explain the unexplainable. He was a messy kid, sure, but there was always a method to his madness, as Aunt Iris said fondly. Just because he stored his pencils under his desk by the chair didn't mean that he didn't know where they were. And he treasured his superhero stuff. Too much to lose them.

“I got into a scuffle after patrol with some thugs,” said Wally easily, the lie smooth on his lips.

He was getting too good at this.

“Did they see your face?!” demanded Aunt Iris, paling at the thought that Wally's secret identity could be in jeopardy.

“No,” said Wally confidently, “I smacked them out. But the goggles flew into the river.”

“The river?” asked Uncle Barry, uncertain, “What were you doing there so late at night?”

Wally winced as the next lie flew from his lips, “A friend of mine said there was going to be a bush party there. He invited me to tag along, and I- I mean- I just sort of did. But I got lost and-

“Oh Wally,” said Barry with a sigh, “I know being popular is important, but those parties are dangerous. Anything could have happened! And do you know the amount of times I see the guys getting called in because there's rumors of drugs at those things? And hardcore stuff too, like cocaine and heroin and whatever cocktail they've created for the week. It's dangerous kiddo.”

“At least he didn't get hurt,” said Iris, coming over to physically pat him down for bruises.

Wally held back the shudder at her touch, but just barely. He didn't deserve their concern. Uncle Barry was already moving on with a clap on Wally's shoulder as he said, “It's okay kid. It's all okay. Just don't get caught up in something like that again, alright?”

“Alright,” said Wally, lips twitching to bite back the laughter, or maybe hysteria that was bubbling. Uncle Barry had no idea how awfully true those words were.

Or how much he didn't deserve them.

“I'll get Batman to build you a new pair,” said Barry firmly, “But until then, you're off patrol, okay?”

“Yeah, that's fine,” said Wally with a small pout, slipping into the role so easily he was terrified. Then with added concern, because he really didn't want to do this again, “Can you not tell mom about this?”

Iris looked at him with a deep, questioning glance, and then sighed when he pretended not to see her concern and said, “We have to explain why you aren't patrolling. And the goggles will take a few weeks to come in.”

“Just tell her I lost them in a fight!” tried Wally eagerly.

“You want us to lie to your mom for you?” asked Uncle Barry, disappointment etched on his face, “It won't be bad kid. She'll be upset, sure, but I'll talk her down. You shouldn't lie, Wally. How else will we be able to help you?”

Wally nodded miserably.

“Let's watch a movie then,” said Iris, taking Wally by the wrist over to the couch, “Hot fudge sundaes?”

“Please?” asked Wally, and Iris nodded.

* * *

Half-way through the movie, the Flash was called out on patrol, and Wally and his Aunt Iris sat on the couch. It was the old Aliens movies, and it was mind-numbing and just background noise. Wally was more focused on burrowing into his aunt, letting her hold him, wrap him in her warmth. She was real. Solid. Soft. Comforting.

And she smelled heavenly.

Like ice-cream and something a bit more fruity, like pomegranate.

It was so warm and made all the bad smells he couldn't forget go away.

“Wally,” said his aunt softly, petting his head, “You'll tell us if you're being bothered in school, won't you? Or with your friends?”

Wally paused, feeling his entire body tense, before he relaxed. She thought it was bullying. With a yawn, he let his eyes flutter shut in her warm embrace as he promised, “O' course.”

He could tell her about bullies.

They, after all, were safe.

* * *

Just as Wally had predicted, his mother did not take the news of his supposed shenanigans well. He was banned to his house until such time that his mother thought he could handle himself again. She had banned all friends from the home, and given him the typical, 'What would your father say?' lecture. His dad had yelled at him when he came for his once-every-few-months visit.

It sucked that every time his dad came home, he screwed up.

But now, Wally was in a catch twenty-two situation. One the one hand, he  _wasn't_ really a delinquent like his mother and father worried. On the other, he needed them to think he'd gotten involved in the wrong crowd and that's why he was acting weird.

Because he definitely wasn't acting normal.

His mother had pointed it out when she asked him why he always stayed in his room. She'd asked him about the jeans, and he'd lied and said he'd torn them badly at school. His father thought he was acting weird when he flinched at his father's touch. Uncle Barry had gone on a League mission, and Aunt Iris, though she called every night, Wally just couldn't bear to talk to her and listen to her litany of concern and love.

That was how he once again became friends with Billy Johnson.

Billy had not become a much better human being than he had been in elementary school when he'd shrugged off his homework assignments to Wally alongside fifteen dollars. A combination of a strong build, slightly handsome face when puberty kicked in, and an unhealthy amount of parental neglect alongside a large bank account, and you had the recipe for Billy Johnson. His current vices included football and beer and the occasional recreation drug. Marijuana was the flavor of choice, and the occasional LSD. 

Billy's best friend, was a bigger, beefier guy called Jerry McGee who was undoubtedly on steroids of some kind and while he and Wally generally got along, the steroids messed with Jerry's head and often times he was in a bad mood and foul temper and would snap at anyone and everyone for seemingly nothing. Billy's girlfriend, Frances Kane, was a sweet-tempered, though strangely nice to him girl. She had an easy laugh, and was very nice for someone who got jealous of Billy's interactions with other girls too easily. The last friend of the group was a guy named Mick Tanner, and he was easily the scariest teenager Wally had ever met.

It had a bit to do with his tongue piercing, his "home-made" tattoo that Wally always felt inclined to check for gangrene when Mick rolled his sleeves up to reveal the python looking thing, and the crazy look in his eyes. But, it was also partially because he was a part-time drug dealer.

His life sure was looking up.

His dad would be so proud.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Link: http://sunny-donna.tumblr.com/


	5. Concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally attempts to cement his lies. Things get complicated very quickly.

The first person to begin questioning him, to his immense surprise, was Franny. They were in science class together when it happened. Franny had welcomed him to sit beside her, and she was eyeing him as he worked at their lab bench, easily going through the notes and making his own observations. Franny wasn't as good at science, but she pushed herself into the honours class and could use his help.He just never realized that maybe he was showing off a little.

“You're really good at science,” she said, looking at him in surprise, “How come you hang out with Billy and Mick if you like science so much?”

Wally stared at her in surprise, and then shrugged it off with a grin as he said, “They're my friends.”

“Billy told me you did his assignment for him,” she tossed back, a shrewd look in her grey eyes, and her small nose scrunched up, “And Mick said you wrote his history paper for him even though you don't even like history.”

Wally faltered, but his smile stayed up as he said, “It was just for a friend.”

“They think you're only hanging out because you want something from them,” said Franny stubbornly, her pointed chin jutting out at him, “Do you want something from them?”

“Of course not,” lied Wally. Besides, he only needed his aunt or uncle to see them once, and that would cement his lie about how he lost his goggles and then he could just walk away.

“Is it drugs?” asked Franny, cocking her head to the side, as though she was examining him.

“No!” said Wally sharply, that was the last thing he needed to get involved with.

“Then why are you sticking around? You do realize Mick and Billy aren't that great, right?” asked Franny simply.

“Why do you date Billy then?” asked Wally, deflecting the question.

“I love him,” scoffed Franny, “And you're avoiding the question.”

“He's my friend,” said Wally with a twinge of annoyance, “That's why.”

Franny sighed, and then gave up on questioning him as their teacher came by to check on their progress and she had to quickly copy his notes.

One annoyance deflected.

* * *

“Wally,” asked his mother two days later, looking at him pensively as he came home, and just wanted to head upstairs.

“Yes ma?” he asked, turning to give her a tight smile.

She came over towards him, her eyes bloodshot and the smell of soap lingering around her. Judging from the fact that she was still in her nightgown, it probably meant she'd just woken up. He swallowed, and stood his ground as she started to sniff around him.

“You're late,” she said, her eyebrows scrunching together.

He winced, and gave a slight nod. Mick had been heading to his friend's car, the guy who supplied him the drugs he supplied, and he'd invited Billy, Jerry and Wally along. Wally hadn't really been interested, but unlike Jerry and Billy who had football practice, he had no reason to not 'check out the scene, man!'

It was going to cost him now.

“You smell like... cigarettes,” said his mother, her eyes horrified as she looked at him.

“I-

“Why do you smell like  _cigarettes_?!” she gasped, grabbing his arm tightly in her hand, squeezing it so tightly that he felt his blood cutting off.

The upside to this situation was that he'd left before Mick could light his joint.

“I- It's not mine!” he blundered immediately.

His mother stepped back, staring at him in horror. Her green eyes were wide; his own eyes mocking him from her face. Her hand went to her heart, and she seemed so broken by him, that Wally just wanted to breakdown and confess that he wasn't friends with Mick, that it was all a lie.

But she didn't give him a chance.

_Smack!_

The sting of her hand on his cheek burned in his heart, and he felt where her ring has cut into his cheek. She was trembling, and even though his head wasn't facing her, he glanced downwards, in shock. His mother had never hit him before. _Ever_.

“Go- Get  _out_!” she screamed, “Out of my sight! Just go!”

He shuddered, and tried to say something, but his face was still burning. His eyes were watery. He dropped his backpack, and left the house.

* * *

When he came home, two hours later, his mother was watching television. Her wine was in the bottle, in her hand. He hesitated in the living room archway, trying to figure out where to go. Wally just wanted to go to his room. But his mother turned her head, and she stared at him.

No.

Through him.

“Is that you Wally?” she asked, looking dull and lifeless, like a puppet.

“Mo- Mom,” he said, walking into the room, heading to sit beside her.

“Oh Wally,” she said with a sigh, “What am I going to do with you?”

He winced, and then reached to wrap an arm around her, but she crossed her legs, her left leg hitting him and separating them. With a grimace, he held back. His throat was constricted, and he felt her looking at him.

“I'm sorry,” he blurted out immediately.

Forgive me.

I made a mistake.

Please don't give me up.

_Please._

“Well, I'm going to get dinner ready. Go shower and change honey,” she said firmly, heading to the kitchen.

He stopped, and stared after her. What did that mean? She was humming, and then he suddenly felt a lurch in his chest. For some reason, her lack of acknowledgement, her pretending that nothing was going on, it hurt. But he buried that under the feeling of relief.

He knew this game.

He knew the rules.

He was good at playing pretend.

* * *

Two weeks after that incident, his mother hadn't brought it up, and neither had he. She acted as though the entire event hadn't occurred, and he was following her lead. Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris didn't know anything.

Finally, his lie was cemented when Uncle Barry called via the comm after he was finishing up an investigation about a homicide nearby his school, and offered to take Wally out for ice-cream after school. Wally had practically been giddy as he texted his uncle back, and then set his plan in motion.

Mick practically screamed druggie with his scruffy look, the blood-shot eyes, and stained teeth. He usually went to have a joint during lunch with Billy. By the time school ended, Wally followed them out. As he was walking with them, laughing at a sexist remark Mick made, when he saw his uncle Barry, standing by his rarely used car. It sent a pang through him about why it was here. Reminded him of why he couldn't run right now.

Eighty dollars.

Pushing that thought aside, Wally murmured a goodbye to Mick, who flipped out a cigarette and offered it to the group. Wally hesitated. That was a first. Mick never offered him anything. He waved it away, and headed towards his Uncle's blue sedan. Ignoring the nervousness of what he felt, he moved quickly to his uncle, beaming at him all the way. Barry's frown had deepened, and Wally suddenly felt his cheek tingle where his mother had smacked him. He shrugged it off stubbornly. Uncle Barry wouldn't do that.

Probably. 

Besides, it ended today.

“Wally?” asked Uncle Barry, staring at him as though he'd grown a head.

“Hey Uncle B,” said Wally, beaming up at him, “Ice cream at Carmine's?”

“Sure, sure,” said Uncle Barry, slipping into the car.

The ride was silent. Wally was waiting for the judgement to fall. He knew his Uncle was stewing, wanting to say something but holding back until he'd found the right words. He knew his shirt probably had the scent of lingering cigarette smoke from accompanying Mick and Billy for their between-classes smoke. He struggled not to vibrate the seat into an explosion.

“Are those- I mean- You made new friends,” began Uncle Barry lamely.

“They're not bad people,” said Wally defensively, and it was true. They could be pretty funny sometimes, and Mick's dad was sort of a jack-ass so it made sense he was sort of a jack-ass at times too. Besides, Franny was sweet. And Jerry was a really good guy when he wasn't raging.

“I'm not saying their bad people,” said Barry firmly, “But, well, were they the people who invited you to that party back then?”

“Well yeah- but-

Lie affirmed.

“Wally,” said Uncle Barry softly, “I don't think you should stick around them anymore. Just because they aren't bad people doesn't mean they're good influences. That boy, he offered you a cigarette! I work with cops Wally, and trust me when I saw boys like that turn up in jail or worse. Hell, I have half a mind to go back and ask him where he got those because it sure as hell wasn't legal and whoever's supplying him with that stuff is due for a visit from Central PD- but it won't do that kid any good. But you're a good kid Wally. Promise me you'll stay away from them, Kid?”

“I- okay,” said Wally, relieved that he could finally give up his facade.

Barry smiled, and ruffled Wally's hair as he said, “You're a good kid Wally. Don't sell yourself short. There'll be other friends, better friends. Just, stay out of trouble, okay? And your Aunt and I are here whenever you need us.”

Wally felt a warmth bubble in his chest at those words. It stayed with him all day, and even the ice-cream he got with his Uncle Barry couldn't cool that feeling.

* * *

“Hey West,” called Mick, surprising Wally that Mick of all people had come to find him.

“Mick?” he asked, gaping as he sat up from his seat behind the steps where he was eating lunch until such time that he could reaffirm his friendships with the more nerdy crowd that was sort of afraid of him.

“Where the hell did you go man?” asked Mick, squatting down beside him.

“I-

“Shut up. Why the fuck are you sitting here?” asked Mick, squinting at him, “Let's go.”

“You want me around?” gaped Wally. He hadn't realized that Mick and Billy actually liked him. He thought they just put up with him for homework help.

“Are you coming you little shit?” asked Mick, grabbing his bag before he could say anything.

Wally gaped. And that warmth from Uncle Barry's words yesterday was nothing compared to this scorching heat of having acceptance from Mick and Billy. He scrambled up, and his brain was probably not working as he asked, “We're friends?”

“I haven't kicked your ass yet, have I?” asked Mick.

And Wally followed behind him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget I'm on
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr ](http://sunny-donna.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> Find me there for updates and snippets.


	6. Coveting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally starts to feel hateful of himself, and envious of others.

Two months after the disastrous alley-way event, and Wally was fifteen. His birthday party was held at Uncle Barry's house, and Robin, Roy and Kaldur had come. He hadn't bothered with his new and exciting school friends. Billy hadn't even remembered his birthday until nudged by his girlfriend, and then he'd sung a crappy rendition of Happy Birthday. Franny had given him a cupcake with a candle. Mick had offered him some ecstasy that Wally politely declined but felt thankful at being offered because it reaffirmed that Mick thought he was a friend, even if Wally didn't smoke with him and Billy. Jerry had made an effort not to yell at everyone too much.

That was good. It was understandable. Normal.

This, however, was far from normal. And it was  _awesome_  and  _awful_  all at once.

He grinned as Roy slammed his present on the table, hollering at Robin that he had gotten here first, ergo Robin should 'shut the fuck up and sit down'. Kaldur, still sort of new to this whole business, stared at them wide-eyed and then returned to stoicism as he just passed his present along and then asked Aunt Iris if she needed help getting Wally's cake in.

She'd made two cakes. One for Wally, and one for everyone else.

God he loved her.

"Alright already! You're both being stubborn," hollered Oliver Queen, billionaire and one of best friend of Barry Allen, "Wally can pick."

Robin and Roy stopped arguing, and then turned to Wally with fierce expressions.

"Relax, I'll open both," Wally replied, beaming as he grabbed both boxes, and began unwrapping them with his speed.

The paper flew everywhere, some getting stuck between the strands of his hair, but it didn't matter. He grinned as he finally saw the presents.

And then his heart sank.

Robin had gotten him a cell-phone.

He stared at the device in awe and misery. He'd talked about wanting one during their last Gotham team up, but he hadn't really been serious. The plan was too much to waste money on. But here it was, a perfectly usable Wayne Tech model, probably the W-Phone 3GS. The best on the market.

Roy had gotten him new trainers, probably reinforced with Star Tech so that he could run without his boots in case of an emergency. He'd burnt the soles of his shoes and his skinned the bottom of his feet the last time he'd forgotten his shoes when switching his uniform. The runners probably cost a fortune.

For their birthdays, he'd gotten Robin a video game, thirty bucks, and agonized over it. For Roy, he'd gotten a special bow polish that had been fifty bucks and he had skipped two lunches and increased his paper route by thirty houses to buy it and not cause a strain to the precarious home finances.

"Thanks you guys!" he beamed, grinning up at them while _hating_  them for being rich and feeling immensely  _guilty_  over that because neither had chosen their lives.

"Open Kaldur's next," said Aunt Iris firmly.

Kaldur had gotten him a souvenir from Atlanis. It was like a snow-globe, but the gold base suggested far more expense. And it had sea coral and other plants he'd never heard of before. No fish, but a pretty decoration that resembled the place Wally had gone to with Kaldur when he'd first gone to Atlantis for a mission, and they'd ended up somewhere in Australia. After that mission, Wally had plucked a sea clam for a souvenir, because he'd forgotten about it in the heat of chasing Black Manta. Kaldur had obviously put thought into this, since he'd written the word 'Souvenir' on the gold plated base.

"This is- wow Kal," said Wally, taken aback, and amazed as he ran his hand over it.

 _Expensive,_ taunted his brain.

He wrapped his fist around the base, trying to make sense of his emotions as he gave Kaldur a wobbly smile. Everyone mistook it as an emotional reaction, but the wrong kind. He wasn't overwhelmed with gratitude. He was overwhelmed with  _hate and disgust._

And the memory what he'd done for eighty dollars while his friends shelled this kind of stuff out for nothing.

For him.

For nothing.

He wasn't worth all this.

He wasn't worth anything.

Except maybe eighty dollars.

Breaking him out of his stunned haze, his mother called out, "Wally! Daddy's on the phone."

"Dad?" asked Wally, jumping up and taking the phone from his mother.

 _"_ _Wally?"_ crackled a deep voice on the phone.

"How are you?" came the questions automatically before Wally could censor them, "How's work? When's business over? I got shoes and a phone and a globe for -

 _"Look son,"_  said his dad, firm and stubborn, _"I can't talk long. Meeting in a few minutes. Happy birthday."_

"Ah- right, thanks," said Wally, nodding and still grinning like an idiot. Last year his dad hadn't been able to call until a full week after his birthday. This year he'd hit the birthday mark.

 _"Since you got so many presents, what else do you want?"_  asked Rudy, sounding hesitant.

"I- nothing," said Wally firmly, wide-eyed and determined, "I don't need anything else."

 _"Alright,"_  said Rudy with ease,  _"Then I'll talk to you later. Bye son."_

"Bye dad," said Wally, as he heard the voice of someone else calling his dad. And then the line went dead.

Wally returned to the living room, where Robin was on his laptop, fiddling with the settings and updating the thing. His phone was already hooked up, with music streaming in. He'd never even gotten a chance to have the opportunity to return it. Not that he could, it probably had a number already and Bat-Tech installed for him that nobody else could know about.

"Wally, open your Aunt and Uncle's presents," said his mother lightly, "And then we can eat cake."

New goggles from Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris. Which were probably the worst present and the best. They had lightning ballasts stemming from them, unlike his old ones. But they kept reminding him how he lost his old ones too. Nonetheless, he gave them a hug, and slung them around his neck and tried not to concentrate on the man's drunk voice in his head asking him if it was a part of his gig.

Uncle Ralph and Aunt Sue arrived later ("Sue and I got wrapped up in the shower!" "Ralph! Don't tell them that!") and had gifted him a new set of chemicals from Ralph's private labs that were expensive and hard to get. Uncle Hal was stuck on a mission in Oa, but he'd gotten Wally a sample of alien rocks to dissect and study that were probably invaluable to scientists anywhere.

They all thought he deserved this.

So he hid away his angst and swallowed cake until he really started to choke and nobody noticed the real issues.

* * *

A week after his birthday, he hadn't touched his presents. The globe Kaldur had was propped onto his desk. The cell phone was on the bedside table, used only to text his hero friends late at night. The shoes were in the back of his closet. The chemistry stuff, while organized on his desk, just wasn't used. He couldn't bring himself to look at any of it.

It wasn't right.

He ended up patrolling the neighboring city of Keystone the next few nights, away from Uncle Barry, away from home, as far away as possible from his room. Often he ended up in the seedier parts of Keystone, which was far more grimy and messy than his own home. He stared at the place, uncertain what drew him here, but anger.

Lots of anger.

Some where in the mess, he changed into his civvies and started roaming. The goggles were always thrown around his throat. He didn't know what he wanted, or really, what it meant. He just, he was angry and tired and worthless.

A nobody.

He didn't know how long he walked in that daze, unaware of the things around him, what they meant. He was just alone. Worthless.

Money wasn't important.

Money was important.

He was broken.

He was worth something.

Why didn't anyone see he really wasn't?

"Hey! Kid!" called a voice, and he turned to see an older man, looking jittery. His eyes were red rimmed and the pock marks on his arm. Drugs. Addict.

"Yeah?" asked Wally cautiously.

"You- you got a t-ten?" asked the man, shivering and dirty, "I need a tenner."

"I got nothing," said Wally calmly, not betraying an inch of the uncertainty or loathing he had at admitting such a fact.

He did have eighty dollars in an envelope that was hidden under his bed with the rest of the evidence.

"Li- Liar!" slammed the addict, shoving at Wally, "I- I just need a ten! P- Please?!"

Wally was still on his feet. The addict really had nothing on him. He wasn't strong. He smelled. He was skinny. Wally could knock him back and down without any worry. But he didn't. The man punched him. It was pathetic, but still split his lip.

"Shit," said Wally, reveling in that moment of pain, that glorious rush it gave him.

Then he knocked the man flat on his back and ran home. His heart was racing as he realized what he'd felt in that moment. He shivered, wrapping himself on his bed, staring at all the fancy items, hating himself for wanting to use them, hating himself for not being able to provide anything for his mother.

Hating himself.

* * *

"Shit, when did you get a W-phone? Fuck man, you didn't tell me you were rich!" announced Mick loudly in his scratchy voice, staring at Wally's new phone with a slight bit of envy and interest.

"Gift from a friend," said Wally hesitantly, hating himself for carrying that around but having no choice now that his parents wanted him to use it and Uncle Barry thought it was a convenient way to get in touch.

"Rich friends?" asked Mick eagerly, "How-

"They won't buy," said Wally flatly, thinking of either Roy or Robin spending money on drugs and shuddering.

"Rick fucks," said Mick with a murderous glare, "What use is it to have rich friends if they don't give you shit?"

"Well, Wally's getting shit," pointed out Jerry with a nod.

Wally stiffened at that and said, "It was a birthday gift."

"Yeah yeah. You're a kept man, aren't you?" teased Billy, and Wally felt himself growing horrified at the thought.

It stung even after that conversation ended.

* * *

The next time he was back in the grimy areas of Keystone, it was three days before Christmas. His dad wasn't going to be back. He'd just hung up the phone on his father, who was distant as usual. His mother wasn't bothered. She'd merely said it was the way things were.

Wally was alone.

He sighed as he plodded along the dark pavement. The lights were like post-marks, and as Wally passed each lamp, he fancied it like a video game. Clearing levels as he went by. The fourth lamp on the empty alley of Keystone's back streets was duller then the rest.

There was nothing below it but a hooker.

The hooker was a woman, dressed in a dull grey dress, her breasts nearly spilling out of the top, her legs barely contained. Her arms had signs of drug use littered along it. Her cheeks were sallow and her fingers stained yellow. Her teeth were disgusting when she smiled. Her hair was sallow and stringy, a short bob that framed a horse-like face. Grotesque. Ugly.

Slowly, she drew out a cigarette, lighting it up, and taking a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. The smoke formed rings as she pursed her lips. It wasn't attractive, not in the slightest.

But it wasn't ugly.

He watched, a sense of kinship with that women. He just didn't understand.

Maybe he was losing his mind, but as he saw a car pull up, and a man wave his hand to her, he suddenly felt brave. Really brave.

When she was gone, Wally headed to lamp-post. Nervous, he simply stood there. Staring out at the street. Wondering if a car would drive by. He felt worthless and desolate standing here, stepping into that woman's shoes and looking around the street. It was dark and shadowy and filled with menacing air that snuck up on you.

But it felt right.

He belonged here.

Worthless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](sunny-donna.tumblr.com)


	7. Turned Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally makes some bad decisions on the lure of having fun. And like all bad decisions, nothing good can come of it.

After that Christmas, Wally hadn't gone back to the alleyway. He was scared of what he'd done that night. Nobody had approached him. He hadn't stayed long anyways. But it was terrifying to think he'd let himself be in such a position. It was terrifying to be aware of what had happened.

He had nightmares still about the streets. Dirty, disgusting. Red and black and blue, dancing like a horrible bruise in his memory. No amount of showering got rid of it. And he had no bandage that he could just slap on and be done with it all. Nothing was working.

Which was why, in April, when his friendship with the rougher kids had finally been cemented, he agreed to go to a party for the first time in his life. He just wanted to not think. Never think. To drown and wallow and not be able to breathe.

Jerry insisted the parties were like that.

He didn't tell anyone where he was going that night. His mom thought he was going to tutor Franny, who she thought was rather sweet. While he was definitely going to Franny's, he wasn't going to stay there long.

Wally pulled on a pair of jeans, a blue t-shirt and a black hoodie. Nothing too fancy, since Billy insisted this was going to be lame. But Jerry said there'd be booze. And Mike was bringing something extra that Wally didn't want to think about. Which was sort of the whole point of tonight- not thinking.

_Yo dude, want to hang out tonight?_

Wally stared at the phone, surprised at the sudden text from Robin. It wasn't often that the two got a chance to hang out, and rarer still was Robin inviting him over. He'd probably just caught a major villain and wanted to hang out, brag a little, and play video games.

Wally hesitated.

Normally, he'd already be on his way to Rob's by now, but this was different. This was supposed to be his catharsis. He had to go. It was going to be good. Relief.

He really needed some relief.

_Can't._

Flicking the phone off, he headed to the party, not letting the guilt at abandoning his best friend linger for too long.

* * *

At the party, Wally was struck by the amount of bodies that could fit into someone's house. Billy didn't even know whose party this was, but they'd arrived anyway, bright-eyed and eager to face the world. Franny kept shooting Wally disapproving looks, as though he had broken some expectations she had of him, but she disappeared into the crowd with Billy anyways and Wally didn't think about it.

"Where do we go?" yelled Wally, over the beating of the bass, enveloping the house and throbbing like the pulse of someone who had just raced a mile, frenetic, frantic beats that made you want to shiver.

"Drinks," grunted Jerry, grabbing Wally by the scruff of his collar and leading him to the kitchen-cum-bar area of the house.

Whoever owned this house was well stocked, and well-secluded, tucked away on a large property surrounded by farmland. The kitchen-bar was filled with bottles of beer, kegs rolling around, red cups flashing between the dark amber liquids sitting in bottles on the counter.

Jerry was fast, tough and huge. Within minutes, he had several bottles of whiskeys, one or two gins, and an entire bottle of tequila in his arms, and then Wally was carrying a few. They headed out of the kitchen after making a raid and staking a claim on what was a perfectly horrifying quantity of booze, they made their way through the crowd, finding an uneasy looking Franny, and Miles, with a bag of pills.

"Ecstasy," crowed Miles, "I'm going to make a killing out of these."

Wally swallowed back the fear lodged in his throat. And the guilt. As a superhero, it was his job to confiscate those, get Miles to see the error of his ways. Kid Flash was mocking him now, teasing him for being such an idiot.

"No thanks," said Franny, crinkling her nose in disgust, "Come on Wally, let's go dance."

Wally flushed red, as red as his hair, and shook his head, eyes wide. He couldn't dance! Billy guffawed and shoved Wally in the shoulder with his fist the size of the snow-globe Aunt Iris liked. Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry were going to be so mad! Maybe he should just leave. Rob was probably still waiting up, he was a nocturnal little brat.

"Relax little red riding hood," said Jerry in the slow mid-west drawl he had, as he began to pop open one of the very intimidating dark liquor bottles, "Take a swig."

Franny took the bottle like a pro and took a deep drink, wincing only at the end at the taste. Billy had his own bottle, as did Jerry and Mike, who guzzled away with ease at their liquors, laughing at the quality and trading jokes about the booze being shit but the babes being hot. Wally felt like a sore thumb, and glanced at his bottle like it might bite him.

"You don't have to," offered Franny gently, "Nobody'll be mad if you don't."

But that made Wally more determined, as he felt his cheeks burn at the suggestion that he somehow wasn't able to keep up. Determined, Wally swallowed down the Black Label whiskey, gasping as it went down, and then coughing. Franny awkwardly hit him on the back, as the booze rushed through Wally's stomach, burning him on the inside as he felt tears prickle his eyes.

And then he did it again.

By now, he had gotten Jerry and Mike and Billy's attention, and they were whooping and hollering and Wally felt confident the second time around, widening his throat and just guzzling the whiskey, straight from the bottle. He gasped as he was done, feeling pretty good as he set the bottle down. A full third of whiskey, in one straight go.

He could hear Mike laughing, gasping something like, "He's going to be so hungover tomorrow."

And then Franny was staring at him, as though concerned as she placed a hand on his forehead, and then Wally asked, "Don't have a fever- what are you doing?"

She blushed, and sighed as she took the bottle away and glared at him, "That much whiskey's going to knock you out on your first go Wally."

But he felt good, as the liquid settled inside him.

"Let's dance," offered Wally, and then he and Franny were in a sea of bodies, moving to a fast-paced, rhythmic beat as people moved around them. Billy, Jerry and Mike were still drinking, giggling as they watched him dance, before Mike slipped away, pills to sell and all. And Wally should be worrying, but it didn't matter because there were so many people around him, and he felt really happy as he danced in the crowd, just another face.

Franny was giggling as he twirled her, and she pet his cheek as she murmured, "You don't have to keep up with those guys."

And Wally nodded emphatically, though he didn't know why. Some red cups were floating through the throng, and Franny took a sip of some punch from a girl she knew, Tina or something, and Wally turned to dance with another girl, Franny forgotten as he let the whiskey course through him.

The new girl seemed just as eager as he was, probably just as warm, he thought, as he shed his sweater to just a t-shirt. The girl laughed as she fell on top of him, swaying her hips in a way that was most definitely not dancing, her hands moving across his chest, and then she was groping his bum and laughing in his ear, seductive and her alcoholic breath was moving across his freckles, teasing his nose as she said, "You're cute, how come I've never seen you around before?"

Before Wally could answer, he was being torn away by Franny, who was glancing at him worriedly, and glaring at the other girl. A new song started up- wait- that was the eighth song? Franny was saying something, but Wally shook his head, and they were dancing again. As things started to get clearer, and Wally felt more in control, there was a sudden sense of uneasiness.

"I need a drink!" hollered Wally, as Franny said, "I want Billy to dance with me."

As Wally headed to find some alcohol, or some water, or something to quench the thirst, he saw Franny traipse off to the other side of the house. He pulled out the accursed W-phone, staring at the messages. Rob has changed the slider to a bat-symbol the other day, little hacker that he was. There were three messages on his phone. One from Uncle Barry, and two from Rob himself.

At the kitchen, fresh booze was stocked, and Wally didn't even glance at it as he grabbed a bottle of something, and uncorked it, taking a sip and pausing to read the messages.

_How come you didn't go to Rob's place?- BA_

Wally glanced at the message, unsure of what to reply. As he took another sip of this fancy wine bottle, that tasted better then the whiskey, he got the courage to tell a lie. After all, what were the chances of Uncle Barry finding out? And besides, he'd gotten pretty good at lying. And nobody had to know.

_Doing HMWK with a friend. Highschool probs, y'know?_

Confident that the message was good enough to pass inspection, Wally opened Rob's messages, taking another swig of the wine. It didn't hit as fast as the whiskey, and the flavor was rather bitter, like raisins might taste if they were dipped in vinegar, and that sounded strange, but it made him feel light and airy.

And then Rob called his phone.

Wally picked up, not questioning his judgement as he heard the little bat's squeaky voice calling out,  _"Walls?"_

"Wassup bro?"called Wally back, "How you doin'? Got that line off of Friends. Man I love Joey."

Rob giggled, not his cackle that he used to mock, but a genuine laugh, and Wally relaxed, leaning against a wall and taking another swig of the wine, savoring the rather putrid taste. Why hadn't grown-ups found a better tasting wine to achieve the buzz?

 _"What about wine?"_ asked Robin, sounding confused, and damn, had he asked that out loud?  _"Wait- Wally, what's the music in the background- where are you?"_

"At a party," giggled Wally, "A highschool party with girls and alcohol and music and dancing! I love dancing!"

 _"Whoa!"_  breathed Robin, and Wally could imagine the little guy sitting straight up in his bed, glancing around the corner of his eye for Alfred and the Bat. The Bat would be so mad with Wally for corrupting Robin, and Wally giggled, even though it wasn't that funny. But it totally was, because Robin probably hadn't even seen a drunk Bat but-

"Doesn't Bruce Wayne get drunk when he's not being the Bat? I'm just doin' what he does!" offered Wally, glancing at his half-empty bottle of wine, and when had that happened?

 _"Wally!"_ hissed Robin, all awe leaving his voice as he sounded as hissy and angry as his dad, but without the deep growliness that was Batman, _"You can't say that stuff out loud! You're in public! Are you crazy?!"_

"Nope! Just very very imb-imb-bibed," replied Wally, giggling, "Isn't that a fun- funny word? Man, having a speedy metabolism is awesome! I like- downed half this stuff and I'm not even- even dead!"

 _"What stuff?"_  asked Robin, sounding confused and worried,  _"Wally- wait- are you drinking?!"_

"Yeah man," said Wally with a grin, "And don't get judgy- cause Jesus drank wine and that's all I'm drinking and Bruce drinks wine and it's classy!"

 _"You're underage!"_  cried a very distressed bird.

And wasn't he just a little spoil sport? It was all in good fun, and everyone was doing it and he wasn't being Kid Flash right now. So Wally announced loudly, "Stop killing the buzz! I'm going to dance! Smell ya later Brobin!"

And he hung up on Robin's squalls.

Time to dance.

Except his dance partner was here, looking furious and red-faced and Wally turned to Franny asking, "What's wrong?"

And she was tearing up as she replied, "Billy was kissing some other girl!"

"Hey, have a sip," offered Wally, holding out the bottle of wine, because damn it could make things better. He hadn't had a single unhappy thought all night! And why was everyone determined to ruin that!? Not cool universe.

She took a sip, and then suddenly stared at him, wiping her eyes as she said, "How much have you had to drink? You're swaying!"

"That's only 'cause I want to dance," he said with a giggle, "But not too fast, otherwise I'll be outed as the Flash!"

She stared at him, and then shook her head as she said, "Wally, I think you should leave with me. C'mon, my dad's picking me up, and he won't ask any questions."

She took his hand, but Wally shrugged her away. He didn't need to go anywhere. He was totally fine. Franny frowned as he said that, and she started to say something so Wally cut her off and left. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her shake her head, and wipe her eyes, and he felt bad, but he just didn't want to go.

And as he entered the crowd of dancing, staggering teens, he felt at once at ease. He was just another cog. Just another person, and the anonymity was revelling.

* * *

Somehow, dancing devolved into rubbing on one another, and Wally felt strangely at ease. The girl who landed in his arms was taller than him, with dark raven hair and crystal clear eyes, like hazel and green and blue and he wasn't actually sure what they were. Somehow, dancing wasn't enough. She was moving against him, her hands rubbing on his side as she bent her head and mouthed at his jaw, leaving wet saliva on his neck and tussling his hair, her hips grinding against his groin as she asked, "Let's get out of here?"

Wally just nodded emphatically, because this felt so right and good and he deserved this, didn't he? She tasted like the whiskey, mixed with cigarette smoke, and it wasn't nice at all, but then she moved her mouth away from his lips, and returned to munching on his neck, some of his t-shirt slipping into her mouth, and he ran his hands on her legs, groaning at the sensations that seemed so strange and blurry.

He let himself be lead away, downstairs to the basement where everything was dark and smoky with cigarettes and something distinctly not-quite-legal. It tasted terrible on the mouth, and smelled acrid and pungent. The girl was kissing it away though with her own breath, her tongue down his throat and she was swirling it around and Wally moaned helplessly in response as his hands moved to her breasts of their own volition, feeling their roundness beneath his hands.

She gasped at his exploring hands, and Wally wondered if he had done it wrong. If he was making a mistake. But then the two of them tumbled into a sauna, that was already on and steaming and smelled of sex and alcohol and vomit.

It was tremendously gross, and Wally tore his mouth from the stranger's, as he began to sweat. She tore off her shirt, and pulled him back in before Wally could really take a look of the surroundings, swallowing down any of his complaints, and then he was sitting on the bench, his hands on her sides, feeling over the lace of her bra, a pretty purple lacy bra that felt nice on his fingertips.

"I've never banged a red-head before," she murmured, giggling, "Vicky'll be so jealous- unless- Can I text Vicky? Let him hear?"

And Wally nodded, unsure of what a Vicky was at this point, because the steam was making him hot and he wanted to roll up his pants and peel away the girl, but she was still sitting there, dialing a number and he felt ridiculously uneasy,

She was gasping into the phone now, but Wally's mind was blank because her hand was toying with his zip, a coquettish glimmer on her face as she winked and bent down, pressing her lips to his ear and tugging with her teeth, a little grin on her face.

"He's coming here right now to watch," she said with a giggle, tossing her phone away.

Her hand dipped into his pants, and then Wally froze-

_He was back in the alley, the man hovering over him, his knee in between Wally's legs and his stubble scratching at Wally's chin. The goggles were clattering to the ground-_

"Hey- Are you okay?" asked the Girl, her hands bringing Wally's fingers back to her bra, teasing at the lace, and Wally relaxed, squeezing those olive-toned mounds, in control. This wasn't the same situation. It wasn't! He was in control, with a nice girl whose name he'd find out later.

They were kissing again, tongues knocking and bumping, not finding a rhythm with each other, but it was alright because he felt in control and her breasts were soft and delicate and this was a-okay.

And then the door swung open.

Wally didn't pay much attention, except for a deep voice muttering, "He's sort of skinny, isn't he? But he's red alright."

The girl ignored the voice, so Wally did too, as he felt sweat pour down her neck. He tore one hand away from the round tit under his hand, up through her hair, massaging her hand as they continued to kiss, languidly and relaxed, finally in sync with each other, each moaning in tandem.

And then another hand was on Wally's thigh, squeezing, and his head was pushed away to the very male, very masculine, 'Vicky' that had entered the room. The guy was big and strong and tough looking, with muscles and a tank-top, his pant zip open and a tongue that just speared his saliva soaked lips, demanding entry that Wally pliantly gave, hand still on the girl's boobie because he was in control.

"Red's a'ight at kissing," muttered the guy, "So- up for a threesome red?"

Wally blinked, and blinked again. Threesome?

Maybe he wasn't totally in control anymore. Before he could say anything, the gu whose name was already forgotten was trading spit with strange-hulking-guy, her bra slipping off to reveal very pert brown nipples- and okay- this was definitely not in control.

The two parted ways and Wally was kissing the guy again- "Wait"- and again- "Ugh"- and once more "Maybe-" and then the guy moved his lips to Wally's throat, sucking on the skin and Wally yowled in shock, the slight pinch feeling very very good- and not good because he needed a drink because the jittery feeling was back and when had the girl gotten to her knees and opened his pants?

And then the door swung open and there was a call of "CPCD police!"

Wally gasped, turning away from the scene, and his heart sank as he stared at the short-haired blonde standing at the door, glasses pushed up to cover blue eyes.

"Wally- Wally West?" asked Patty Spivot, her jaw dropped at the scene.

Oh this was not good.

 


End file.
